


There's love for you

by sahina



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, not quite established relationship just yet but they love each other a lot, takes place between 159 and 160, they're very soft for each other. as it should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23298367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahina/pseuds/sahina
Summary: Martin’s eyes fall shut again. “Stay?” he asks, so quietly that Jon almost doesn't catch the words. Even softer, he adds a “please,” and what little part of him that wasn't filled with Martin’s warmth begins to thaw.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 20
Kudos: 152





	There's love for you

**Author's Note:**

> a huge thank you to my friend miles for proofreading this!! you can find him at @milesnsmiles and me @mx-wayne on tumblr, screaming about tma!

They've only just arrived at the safe house when they split up for the first time since escaping London. Jon is downstairs, putting away his things as Martin sets out to search around for the bedrooms. Jon has a sinking feeling that there will only one bedroom and that he'll have to resign himself to the lumpy couch. He thinks this not because Martin will inevitably take the bed for himself but because, despite everything, Jon has noticed the bags under his eyes and the hunch in his shoulders that only comes with little sleep and wants to help fight that. This much he knows from their early days in the archives, back when they only knew of Prentiss’ threat. Martin would emerge from his temporary home in the archives, ragged and cracked. He distinctly remembers Tim walking up to him, taking him by the shoulders and leading him back to the cot for a few more hours of sleeping. The memory of Tim with features wrung in gentle worry and a exasperated tug of the mouth as he tells Jon Martin will be ready for work later makes his bones ache with guilt so he quickly forces his mind to wander in another direction.

Several minutes pass and what Jon thought would be a quick check turns into more than that. Before he thinks too long about it, like how Martin might want privacy or how the silence weighs a little too heavy on his shoulders, Jon makes his way up the stairs. He doesn't call his name, but it's a close thing. The only thing that stops him is the soft sound of music coming from one of the doors cracked open. He can't place it, ears only picking up a sorrowful voice humming to an equally sorrowful guitar clearly coming from a small speaker, but he swears it's the same tune he'd heard Martin sing along to while making tea a lifetime ago.

Approaching the door, he pushes it open slowly, bracing for whatever he might see. His eyes land on a lump of knitted lilac fabric, and it takes a moment for it to register that under it is Martin, curled up on one side with his back facing the door. His phone rests on the pillow, playing music on a low volume, while he has nestled half his face into the rumpled duvet. Jon tiptoes his way around the bed, careful not to make too much sound as not to rouse him. He stops dead in his tracks at the end of the bed. From this angle he can see Martin in his entirety. One hand is bunched in his jumper, the other beneath his cheek as a makeshift pillow, legs drawn up almost all the way to his chest. Jon heart aches as he notices how little space Martin is taking up on the bed. Martin, who is both taller and broader than him, with strong arms and round cheeks. 

Martin, who Jon wishes never felt like he had to make himself smaller. He takes a few steps around the side of the bed so that he can see his face better. Half of his face is pressed into the checkered duvet, with hair that falls into his eyes, lips parted slightly in quiet snoring. Jon notes that he hasn't taken off his glasses with poorly managed fondness, the frames digging into his nose and Jon can already imagine the marks they will leave on his face.

“Oh, Martin…” he sighs, the fondness he tries so hard to push down leaks into it and sticks to his lips. Before he can stop himself he is already reaching for Martin’s glasses. He hesitates when his the fingertips grace the smooth metal, unsure if he really is allowed to take care of Martin like this, if it's something he can let himself have. The thought of Martin spending time to make his tea  _ just right,  _ taking time to learn the way he takes it by heart, convinces him to go through with it. He slides the glasses off as gently as he can manage, which admittedly clumsier then he hoped it would be, and folds them before placing them on the tiny bedside table. Martin stirs a little before burrowing his face further into the duvet, now that he's free to do that painlessly. Jon doesn't even attempt to bite back the smile that blossoms on his face. 

Feeling bold, he tucks a loose strand behind Martin’s ear. At this Martin’s eyelids begin to flutter open, and before he can retreat his hand he is pinned by bleary eyes. Horrified at his actions, Jon starts muttering apologies and turns to leave. Before he can do so warmth envelops his hand, pulling weakly at it. It’s enough to make him stumble a little, more out of confusion than lack of balance.

“Jon…” Martin mumbles sleepily, bringing his other hand up to rub his eyes. Jon hopes he doesn't look as hopelessly in love as he feels.

“Yes?” his voice only trembles a little, and it's a small win in itself. There's a pause, like the world has stopped spinning, and all Jon can feel is Martin’s hand holding his and all he can hear are the words spilling out from Martin’s phone,  _ It just feels good when you're waking up. It just feels good when you’re next to me _ .

Martin’s eyes fall shut again. “Stay?” he asks, so quietly that Jon almost doesn't catch the words. Even softer, he adds a “please,” and what little part of him that wasn't filled with Martin’s warmth begins to thaw. He curls his fingers around Martin’s and sits next to him on the bed, choosing to claim the space to the side Martin’s head. 

“I'm not leaving,” his words are just as quiet, spoken like a promise. Martin hums contentedly, consciousnesses already slipping.

“S’rry, didn't mean to fall asleep,” Martin mumbles, more into the bed than the air. “Jus’ wanted to relax for a minute,” he punctuates the sentence with a soft exhale, the kind that can only come from a sleepy person. Jon pretends that it doesn't make his heart melt. He also pretends that he didn't just think that it's a sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life.

“It's fine, Martin. Sleep for a bit. Lord knows you've deserved it.” The boldness takes over him again and he tentatively places the hand not intertwined with Martin’s in his hair. At first he lets it linger, feeling warmth seep into it, before he drags his fingers through the soft curls. It's nice, he decides, and judging by how much Martin’s shoulder have noticeably relaxed he's not the only one thinking that. Sitting on a bed in a country far from the institute and the nightmare that has been their lives for the last couple of years, he finally feels calm settle over him, bringing him comfort he has forgotten he was capable of feeling.

As he listens the steady rhythm of Martin’s breathing mingled with the album he's put on, he closes his eyes and thinks that maybe things will be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from capturing moods by rilo kiley. the lines that are being sung is from my slumbering heart by the same artist! i imagined the music martin put on was their album the execution of all things, it's great and i love it, therefore martin does too


End file.
